


i think that you're worth keeping around

by salenaRD



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adventure Family, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s03e12 Let's Get Dangerous!, character injury, or at least the beginnings of one, sir please that's my emotional support found family relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salenaRD/pseuds/salenaRD
Summary: (i think you're worth holding on to)Things have finally settled into a kind of normal for Drake Mallard and Gosalyn Waddlemeyer—as normal as things can be for the terror that flaps in the night and his crime-fighting partner, of course. But when a mission gone awry disrupts the comfort of routine, it also threatens to tear apart the relationship the two have begun to build.Sometimes, though, hurt is just the first step towards growth. And change…change doesn't have to be a bad thing.
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Gosalyn Mallard, Drake Mallard & Launchpad McQuack, Gosalyn Mallard & Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	1. i think i'm not quite ready

“And you promise me that you’re going to stay up here?” Darkwing Duck tried to keep his voice level, to hide the worry threatening to boil over. “No coming down, no matter what happens. You’re here as back-up and back-up  _ only _ .”

Gosalyn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘Let’s get dangerous is my motto, not yours,’” she said, raising her voice in a mocking tone. “‘Your safety is the most important thing.’ You’ve told me that, like, a bajillion times. I’ll be fine.”

Darkwing frowned. Did he really sound that nasally? But that wasn’t important right now, he told himself, even as he made a mental note to record and analyze his voice later. “I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he said. “Stay up here, shoot some arrows at them once I lure them outside, and that’s it." He paused. "Oh, and  _ please _ try not to hit me this time.”

“That happened  _ once _ !” Gosalyn complained. “And it was your dumb smoke bomb’s fault—I couldn’t see anything!”

“That didn’t stop it from leaving a really bad bruise!” Darkwing took a deep breath, reminding himself to be the adult in the situation. “But that’s beside the point. I just—if you got hurt—”

Gosalyn suddenly seemed to find something on the rooftop below them extremely interesting. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll stay up here, just like I have the last dozen times we’ve done this,” she said, then glanced up at Darkwing and cracked a small smile. “I’d make you promise not to get hurt too, but I think we both know that’s impossible.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Darkwing rolled his eyes. “These are just some run-of-the-mill bank robbers—after everything else I’ve faced, I’m pretty sure I can handle them.”

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow at him. “ _ We _ can handle them,” she corrected. 

“Right, we.” Darkwing hesitated. “But mostly me.” Before Gosalyn could argue, he pressed on. “I’m finally gonna try my new move out on some real bad guys, and it’s gonna be a guaranteed showstopper.”

Gosalyn scoffed as she pulled her hood up over her head—Darkwing really needed to work on getting her an actual costume. “Whatever you say, Dorkwing. Reminder that not everything is a movie.”

“You wound me,” Darkwing said, clutching a hand dramatically to his chest. “And to be fair, you never know when someone could be filming. Like Shakesbeak said, all the world’s a stage!”

“Oh, true! So I’m sure there’s  _ tons _ of video footage out there of you getting beat up!”

Darkwing met her mischievous grin with a stoic expression that he was able to hold for a count of three before he relaxed his beak into a smile as well. “You don’t know how much I wish I could argue that point,” he told her, and she laughed. “Good luck up here, kiddo.”

“Right back atcha,” Gos said, shooting him a pair of finger guns. “Try not to get too beat up.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely . . .” Darkwing grinned, then leapt off the low building and landed lightly on the sidewalk below. Just across the street was the St. Canard Central Bank, and inside he knew was a gang of criminals he—or rather, W.A.N.D.A.—had been tracking for about a week now. 

He glanced back at the rooftop as he crossed the street, but couldn’t see Gosalyn. His heart rate sped up momentarily before he reminded himself that this was a good thing—if he couldn’t see her, then that meant that none of the criminals would be able too, either. And sure enough, a small head popped over the ledge, shooting Darkwing a questioning look. Why’d you stop? it said, which Darkwing responded to with a short shrug before turning back to the bank.

The doors stood open, and as Darkwing entered the eerily quiet and dark building he wondered when he’d become able to read Gosalyn’s expressions so well, even from across a dark street. She’d only been staying with him for a few weeks, and yet she’d slotted into Darkwing’s life so perfectly that already he couldn’t imagine what it would be like without her. 

He tried to push those thoughts away as he made his way through the bank’s lobby. “This is a temporary thing,” he reminded himself, muttering out loud. “Gosalyn is a crime-fighting partner and that’s  _ it _ . We’re gonna get her grandpa back, and then she’ll go back to her  _ real  _ family.”

Drake would never tell Gos how much pain that thought caused him, or about the dark part of himself that almost hoped Professor Waddlemeyer would never come back and take Gosalyn away.

“This is  _ not the time _ !” Darkwing muttered, angry at himself. He was starting to hear voices coming from the direction of the vaults—he needed to focus on the present, not worry about Gosalyn and the future. “You are the terror that flaps in the night, and you need to get it  _ together _ !”

As he neared the vaults, the voices grew louder, as did the rustling of paper. Money, most likely. If Darkwing had to guess, he’d have said there were four, maybe five people inside. 

He smiled. Good. He had them outnumbered.

Stopping a few feet away from the vault the voices were coming from, he pressed up against the wall, unhooked a smoke bomb from his belt, and threw it into the doorway. Purple smoke erupted from it, spreading through the vault and the hall outside, and Darkwing heard the conversational tones turn to surprise.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night . . .” Darkwing slunk through the purple smoke into the vault, spreading his cape behind him for dramatic effect. “I am the sprinting person who stops the elevator of evil! I am Darkwing— _ ow! _ ”

Something hard clobbered him in the head, and he stumbled back. “Let’s get out of here!” he heard, and he felt a rush of wind as someone ran past him through the smoke.

Darkwing shook his head, trying to clear it. His promise to Gosalyn was not off to a great start, but he’d been hit worse before. Many times. 

So, so many times.

Recovering his balance, he sprinted after the cretinous crooks, pulling his gas gun from its holster as he went. He caught up with them in the lobby and did a quick tally—although they all wore black masks, he counted two dogs, a rat, and three ducks. One of the dogs and the rat were holding baseball bats—so that was what had hit Darkwing—and four of them clutched large bags that Darkwing would bet the Ratcatcher were stuffed with stolen money.

So his original estimate of four had been a bit off. That was fine—there was nothing Darkwing Duck couldn’t handle! 

As they turned to face him, Darkwing cracked his knuckles together and grinned. “Let’s get dangerous.”

The six exchanged glances, then turned and sprinted out of the building.

Darkwing groaned before chasing after them; in retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have given them that chance to get away. As he burst out of the building, he fired two quick shots with his gas gun so that purple smoke billowed up on either side of the criminals, giving the illusion of the street being blocked on either side of them.

Although the smoke wasn’t solid, its sudden appearance was enough to make the group draw up short and give Darkwing the time to catch up to them. He shot a blast of knockout gas at the bat-wielding dog, knocking him back, before throwing a punch and nailing one of the ducks right in the beak to send him to the ground. 

Darkwing heard the whistling of an arrow overhead, and he took half a second to watch its path towards the rat. When it was right above the rodent, the net attached to the arrow deployed, tangling itself around him. 

Darkwing grinned, but resisted the urge to shoot Gosalyn a proud smile—her biggest strength was the element of surprise, from the villains not knowing where the arrows were coming from. Although she would probably punch Darkwing for not saying it was her shooting skills themselves. Instead, he launched himself at one of the other ducks, who scrambled back as Darkwing raised his fist for a quick uppercut.

The duck regained his balance, however, and dodged the punch. Darkwing’s momentum carried him forward, and before he could pull back the duck got in a couple quick hits to Darkwing’s jaw.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s gonna bruise,” he complained, even as he whirled to throw a punch in retaliation. The duck let out a faint “oof” as Darkwing’s fist collided with his face, but Darkwing barely had time to feel pride in the small success before something barrelled into him from the side. 

Knocked off balance, he only barely managed to keep from falling—as it was, he stumbled back several steps before getting back upright. The second dog was the culprit, and both she and the duck were advancing towards him with matching sneers.

Darkwing holstered his gas gun and raised his hands in surrender, risking a glance up towards where he knew Gos was hiding. He didn’t see her, despite being relatively close to the building she was on the roof of, but he could almost hear her yelling at him as she had after many other missions.  _ I can’t shoot them when your big purple self is in the way! _

“Now, now, no need to be too hasty. Maybe we can work something out,” Darkwing said, grinning sheepishly. “You guys can get a couple punches in on me, and then after that you’ll turn yourselves over to the police. Sound fair?”

The dog snorted. “I’ll take the first half of that deal,” she said, cracking her knuckles. Darkwing frowned slightly—he hadn’t realized how cheesy that looked. Had it come across as that stereotypical when he did the same thing earlier? He made a note to ask Gosalyn, though he felt like he could probably guess what her response would be.

Snapping his attention back to the dog and duck, Darkwing raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, that’s not how deals work.” He crouched down, then abruptly pushed off the ground and soared over the vile and vexing villains’ heads, doing a neat flip in mid-air and landing lightly on the ground, pulling out his gas gun the instant he landed.

He’d done it. He’d done it! He’d been practicing that move all week and he’d finally gotten the chance to use it and it had worked  _ flawlessly _ ! “Take that, doubters!” he couldn’t resist saying out loud. “Darkwing Duck does it again! The dauntless drake dazzles—” He cut off as the criminals spun to face him. “Come to think of it, I can gloat later.”

A shot of knockout gas quickly sent the duck to the street, and another net arrow fell from above to snare the dog. Darkwing glanced around, seeing that the third duck had been hit with one of Gosalyn’s knockout arrows and was lying unconscious in the street. His initial shots with the gas gun had long since dispersed, and he could see a few cars beginning to approach.

“Stay back, civilians!” he called. “This is a crime scene—the police should be here shortly!” And wouldn’t they be surprised to see that, yet again, Darkwing had done their work for them. 

Darkwing  _ and _ Gosalyn. As much as he didn’t like to admit having help, he probably wouldn’t have been able to defeat all of them without Gos’s help. At least, it would have been a much longer fight. He turned to shoot her a proud smile—

Only to see the bat-wielding dog, who he thought he’d knocked out ages before, rushing towards him. Except this time, instead of holding a bat, he held a knife.

Darkwing raised his gas gun, but the dog was barely a yard away, the knife even closer—

And then a blur of red, green, and purple fell out of the sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) the original title of this in google docs was "More Drake and Gosalyn Fanfiction Because I'm Trash," if that tells you anything  
> 2.) I feel like I should point out that this is not in continuity with my other Adventure Family fanfic, Fast Food and Family. Namely that in this, Gosalyn has yet to acknowledge Drake as her family  
> 3.) if we don't get a reboot with them I will cry
> 
> anyways, welcome to more of my thoughts and feelings about ducks—now in multi-chapter form! this particular fic is based on the song Soap by the Oh Hellos, which is one of my favorite bands and I really feel like this song fits DT17 Drake and Gos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uq2vZFVWsFg  
> also, if any of you guys have any songs that make you think of these two then I would absolutely love to hear them!
> 
> thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this fic :D


	2. to let you circle the drain

Darkwing stumbled back in shock, and the dog gave an angry grunt. Gosalyn—Gosalyn, that was  _ Gosalyn _ , what was she  _ doing— _ hung on tightly around the dog’s neck as he tried to shake her off. Darkwing tried to push through his panic and pulled out his gas gun, pointing it at the dog, but found himself hesitating. What if he accidentally hit Gos?

Gosalyn looked up and met his eyes. Her hood had flown off, and her red hair was wild. “What are you waiting for? Blast him!” she cried.

Darkwing realized she was right—even if she did get hit with the knockout gas, it wouldn’t do any lasting damage. But in his moment of hesitation, the dog had managed to stabilize himself from Gosalyn’s attack, and before Darkwing could even react he had grabbed Gos off his back. 

She kicked and yelled, but the dog only glared.

And as Darkwing lunged forward, threw her against the wall of the building. 

Drake saw her slam into the brick with far more force than he would have thought possible. He saw her slide down to the cement, eyes closed. He saw her lay there. Not moving.

And then he saw red.

His foot flew up, almost of its own accord, and kicked the knife out of the dog’s grip; then Darkwing was flying at the dog, arms swinging. He dimly registered the feeling of his fists colliding with the dog’s face, Darkwing’s heartbeat thudding in a rhythm that felt familiar:  _ Gosalyn, Gosalyn, Gosalyn _ , it seemed to say, the image of her still form burning a hole through his mind. 

And then the dog was also laying on the ground, and he could hear the distant sound of sirens as the police neared. Drake stumbled back, his eyes lifting to Gosalyn before he ran to her.

He barely knew what he was doing as he reached for his phone and called Launchpad. As he drew closer, he saw with a surge of relief that despite her body being still, so unlike her usual energetic state, her chest still rose and fell evenly.

Drake reached her at the same time Launchpad answered the phone. “DW! What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Drake could hardly find the words as he gripped the phone between his ear and shoulder and slid his arms under Gosalyn and gently lifted her. He’d never noticed how  _ small _ she was, how light she felt in his arms. 

“On the bridge. Sorry I’m running late, Dewey and I were having movie night—”

Drake cut him off. “I need you to get to the St. Canard Central Bank and pick up Gos—pick up Gosalyn and I,” he said, his voice cracking on her name. He cleared his throat. “ _ Hurry _ .”

Launchpad, bless him, must have caught the panic Drake knew infused his tone, because when he spoke again his voice was uncharacteristically serious. “I’ll be there in twenty seconds.”

Drake opened his beak to tell Launchpad that there was no possible way to make it to the bank from the bridge in twenty seconds, but the other duck had already hung up the phone. Drake shook his head slightly. As long as LP got here soon; the Ratcatcher was parked in an alleyway close by, but Drake couldn’t drive it holding Gosalyn and there was no way he was going to put her in the sidecar in this state.

He fumbled his phone back into a pocket on his belt, still gingerly holding Gosalyn, and looked around the scene of the fight without really seeing it. He dimly registered the bags of stolen money with their contents strewn across the street, but he couldn’t bring himself to care or want to do anything about it.

The only thing he cared about now was the small body clutched in his arms. 

And then, suddenly—he felt Gosalyn’s weight shift slightly. Drake’s breath caught in his throat as her eyes slowly blinked up at him. “D-Dad?"

Drake’s heart stopped, and somehow in that instant the world seemed to both swell and shrink around him—around  _ them _ . He stared at Gosalyn with wide eyes until the screeching of tires on pavement made Drake’s head whip up; barreling towards them at an alarmingly high speed was a familiar black limousine.

The vehicle came to a stop barely ten feet away from the fight zone, and Drake wasted no time in rushing over and hopping into the passenger seat, Gosalyn still on his lap.

“I’m so sorry, it’s been almost thirty seconds—” Launchpad began, but his voice cut off as Drake slammed the door shut, and his eyes widened. “Gos?”

“‘M fine,” she mumbled, and Drake just shook his head at Launchpad.

“Hospital,” he said shortly, resolving to put what had just happened to the side for now. Getting Gosalyn medical attention was the most important thing, far more important than anything she might or might not have called him in her addled state. And it had to be a product of what was likely a concussion, Drake told himself. Because there was no way Gosayn ever would’ve said that while fully conscious, fully herself.

The thought made him sadder than he’d ever admit.

Launchpad nodded. “Which way?” he asked. Drake wordlessly pointed, and in a heartbeat Launchpad had reversed the car. They shot backwards before Launchpad shifted the vehicle back into drive and tore off along the streets. 

Drake didn’t have the energy to tell Launchpad to be careful—all he could do was hold on and hold Gosalyn, who despite being awake looked vaguely nauseous and was uncharacteristically quiet. That alone told Drake that something was wrong, his worry swirling through his mind along with the memory of a few minutes before.

_ “D - Dad?” _

Launchpad slammed on the brakes suddenly, and with some surprise Drake looked up to find that they were in front of the St. Canard hospital. They had gotten there in probably half as much time as it should have taken, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Thanks, LP,” Drake said, unbuckling and already halfway out the car. “I’ll bring Gos in—”

Launchpad hesitated, then lifted a finger. “Uh, are you sure you want to go in there in your suit?”

Drake glanced down, blinking as he remembered that yes, he was wearing the Darkwing suit still. It felt strange, to be wearing it without also wearing the persona he put up whenever he became Darkwing. Whenever he’d seen Gosalyn slumped against that wall, though . . . the Darkwing persona had fallen away completely, leaving only Drake. Helpless, useless Drake, who couldn’t protect the one person that mattered most.

“It’ll be fine,” Drake said, pushing the question aside as he climbed out of the car. “You find a parking spot and meet us inside.”

Launchpad nodded, and Drake kicked the door closed, still holding Gos gently in his arms. He burst into the hospital, and both the receptionist and a nurse passing through looked up at him in alarm. 

“Darkwing Duck?” the receptionist asked, standing up. “What are you—”

Drake held out Gosalyn slightly. “She’s injured,” was all he could say. He could think of a cover story for why Darkwing Duck was carrying an injured child later.

The next few minutes were a blur. The nurse took Gosalyn from him, and he had to resist the urge to clutch her to him—he couldn’t let her go, what if she got hurt again—but he released her, telling himself all the while that she would be  _ fine _ , she was  _ awake,  _ she was  _ alive. _

That didn’t stop the image of her unmoving form, slumped against the wall, from taking up residence in the forefront of his mind.

The receptionist had him fill out paper after paper, which he did so in a daze, and she asked him if he had any idea who Gosalyn’s legal guardian was. Drake almost dropped the pen when he realized that  _ that was him _ , but he was Darkwing right now, and he fumbled through his words until he managed to get out that he didn’t know. Quickly after, he called Launchpad and told him to run home and bring some of Drake’s civilian clothes.

And then the papers were filled out, and as tiring as they had been, Drake found himself wishing there had been more. He wished for something to do—anything to do. He itched to get up, to move, but Gosalyn was here and he couldn’t leave Gosalyn. There was no villain to fight, no bad guy he could exchange witticisms with and then defeat. He was useless, and there was nothing he could do but wait. 

And all the while, his thoughts swirled through his head in a conflicting mess. What if Gos calling him that meant that maybe deep down she did think of him in that way? What if being hit on the head had somehow brought those thoughts to the surface? 

No, Drake, that’s stupid. You’re no one’s father—you couldn’t even take care of her as your crime-fighting partner. Why would you be any good as a parent?

It was true, yes, that he was technically Gosalyn’s foster father; Scrooge McDuck had helped them work it out so she could legally stay with Drake while they tried to find a way to get her grandpa back. Gosalyn, however, had made it clear that this was a temporary thing. She’d said it herself, only a few days after Drake had met her: he wasn’t her family.

And, Drake told himself, he was never going to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donald and Drake have at least one thing in common: they both will go absolutely FERAL if you hurt their kids
> 
> also I've never actually been to a hospital for an injury like this so I have no idea if this is accurate or not


End file.
